Escape
by Kelski1989
Summary: Harry can't take it anymore. His views on life and society are interfearing with his role in the wizarding world. Will he go through with it? 5th chapter uploaded! RR ! Features suicidal Harry!
1. Prologue

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed 'The Life Of Harry' and said that I should post this… Here it goes…

Story title:   Escape

Story chapter: My Escape…

I sit here alone on the cold stone floor, my bloody hands trembling with fear. 

The slick crimson liquid trickling in small rivulets across my once unblemished skin. My pain filled face now streaked with salty tears as I cradle my wrists gingerly, and think of my reasons for doing such a deed. 

The sharp kitchen knife slipping from my unstable grasp as my hold weakens. My breaths, now coming in short gasps as I lean against the wall for support. 

*It didn't have to end this way. If only they listened. If only they understood how they make me feel…* I think sadly as my vision blurs. 

*But I have no other option…* 

My vision has now left me completely, plunging me into the welcoming darkness. I do not however, close my eyes. 

I can still feel the warm blood rushing down my shaking hands as my life slowly drains from my weak and abused body. 

The knife drops to the floor with an echoing clatter… 

As my breath catches in my chest, I let a small, sad smile grace my lips. 

*This is it* I think drowsily. 

I close my eyes tiredly; no longer able to keep them open.

My breathing now totally forgotten, as I collapse to the hard, lonely floor. 

*This is my escape…*   

A/N: What do you think? This was originally written for an English h/w …but I decided I should post it on here as well? And sorry that most of my first chapters turn out to be really short… it will get longer…

You will find out who it is … but I'm sure you already know, if the summary has anything to go by *wink* …

Please review…

Want to know why he did it? Review…and you will find out *grins* 

LuvaboyDan*Hesmyman ~*XxX*~


	2. Harder to breathe

A/N: this is the second part of 'Escape' though it comes before the first…Please review…

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related…

Chapter: Harder to breathe.

**Harder to breathe**

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I sit here, staring. Just…staring at them. My friends, my enemies, anything that comes along I suppose. They do not feel what I feel, and I suppose they never will. For my case is unique, you could say. The reasons for my depression, my hollowness, my shell that I have tucked myself away in never to come out again, are this… 

It all started I suppose when Sirius died. Yes I know it sounds a bit cliché but it's true. I don't know why but Sirius made me feel as if I belonged, had a family, had someone who loved me. When I saw him fall through that veil, something clicked. And since then I have become the empty waste of space before you now. To be quite honest I couldn't care less about my 'friends', if I can call them that. They don't know what I've been through, and I hope they never will. 

The Dursleys were…tired, should we say at having me around the house. They thought I took up too much space and that I didn't do enough work. They didn't care that I had just lost my only remaining family member, and had no remorse in telling me how they really felt. 

So I was thrown out, onto the dirty, disease infested streets of London. I was thrown roughly from their BMW company car and left there to freeze to death, or worse…Knowing my luck, I tried to stay as quiet as possible and not disturb anyone. And due to my luck, I tripped over the ripped sleeping bag of a 6ft 6", 20stone ex-boxer. I did not sleep well that night.

That was the point in which I began to block things out. When I began to stare and smirk at all the pathetic people, thinking that they were having a good life while walking to work, when really, their life had been planned out from the beginning. 

You see, I believe that none of us have a choice in what we do in life. We are each born to those, who have been born to others, who have been born to others…etc… We are all brought up, in different environments may-be, but we have all been brought up in a world where we have to work to survive. This world consists of millions of people working for others. In a way we are all slaves. We do not get equal pay. Others still suffer. People still die of starvation. But they still work hard just to give birth to a new generation who will just grow up to work for other people again and again… it's the 'circle of life' shall we say?

The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became. I started to hate my mother. Why had she let me carry on living a life, where I would just feel pain? Where people would do things to spite me and I would have to grow up to 'save the world' and work for others. Why didn't she let me die? 

And then I began to hate myself. How could I think such things of my mother? She gave her life for mine, shouldn't I be grateful? But I just couldn't bring myself to be. And yet again sunk deeper into my shell. 

And the worst thing about it all was that no-one noticed. No-one noticed until I was 'this close' to breaking down. It was Hermione…

# "Harry, what's wrong?" She asked attentively all the while looking eager to pry into my thoughts. 

"Nothing Hermione." I replied shortly. "It's nothing, just finish your homework." I turned away and gazed longingly into the Gryffindor common room fire. Picturing Sirius's head appearing just to say hello and asking Hermione to leave.

"Don't lie to me Harry. There's been something wrong for a while now. You're different. You're not our Harry anymore. What's wrong?" She stood there, arms crossed defiantly in front of her chest, blocking my way as I moved to get up. She was beginning to get on my nerves and I could feel my pulse rate go up as I tried to keep my temper.

"Hermione, I've told you it's nothing for you to worry about ok? It's my problem and I wouldn't want you to be burdened with it." I felt the need for the emphasis, hoping she would get all flustered like usual and say 'well I never…' and make for her dormitory. My luck that she stayed, with a confused and rather hurt look on her face also, making me feel worse. 

"What do you mean I wouldn't understand? Harry all you have to do is tell me and…" I cut her off,

"No Hermione, listen to me" I stood up quickly causing her to jump back to create room for the both of us. I leaned in close to her frowning face and whispered in the calmest voice I could make out.

"If I told you, I would have to kill myself. We wouldn't want that now would we? Hmmm?" She looked scared and I quickly pushed past her and made my way to the dormitory…#

Strange how ironic things can turn out. 

I remember one night I sat on my wooden grate bed, my photo album open in front of me and my wand lit by my side, I didn't care if the ministry of magic found out. As I looked at their smiling faces, glowing with happiness I felt salty tears running down my cheeks. My breathing hitched for just a few seconds. This was the first time I had cried. This was the first time that I had willingly let myself give into my emotions. And that thought made me cry harder. I don't remember what happened that night. Whether I fell asleep, or just sat there in my own little world. The two seemed to have become very similar lately. #

A van drove by me I got drenched in water and brought out of my trance. I began to shiver uncontrollably and as I begin to realise what this world is made up of. 

It becomes harder to breathe…   

A/N: Well, I don't really know how that turned out? I don't think it was that great myself. I know Harry seems a bit OOC but I suppose he is anyways. 

Thanx for those reviewers who reviewed my first bit.  I think there were six of you… THANKIES J 

Anyways. I would really like to know what you think? I seem to be in a suicidal mood lately. Not as in ME wanting to commit suicide. But I'm reading a lot of suicide fics and riting a lot of poems about it … and now writing this story about it… arghhh I'm going a bit twisted. Sorry if that offends anybody out there … L  

Anyways… here if a short liccle poem I've written in my maths class…*very good excuse for feeling that way*wink** 

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**Leaving this world behind.******

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In this world I feel alone,

Like I will never belong.

There are things I shall never know,

And shant until I'm gone.

                        *

This is the reason why I must leave,

This cold, cruel world behind.

Why I must find the needed answer,

That I've tried hard to find.

                        *

I'm sorry if I've hurt you,

I didn't know you cared.

I'm in a better place now,

And shall one day see you there. 

Hopes ya like? Please review!!!

LuvaboyDan*Hesmyman ~*XxX*~


	3. I do not feel

A/N: Well here I am again. I'm glad I got sum reviews for this… made me rite more J anyways this is the third instalment of the 'Escape' story…

Warning: This fic and this chapter contain suicidal thoughts and actions also indications of rape *nothing extreme just a mention*. Do not read if this offends you or upsets you.

Hope you enjoy…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter…

Chapter 3: I do not feel…

**I do not feel**

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I can feel their prying eyes roaming up and down my malnourished body. Their pitying eyes following me down the street as I try to get away. They all think that I'm some helpless, hopeless teen that ran away from home. Maybe they are right. I mean, I am weak aren't I? I can't protect myself from the wrath of my uncle. Oh did I not tell you about that? Well I better begin then shouldn't I? 

When I arrived home from Hogwarts, things were…different. My aunt was more careful around me and my uncle wore that smile. The smile I knew well from my years of tortured childhood. And the smile which I wished would never return. But it did. He began to follow me. Not very subtly either, oh no. Every room I went in he would follow and pick me out on anything I did wrong. He would shout and laugh and ruin my work, but he would never physically attack, until that day…

I had been in my room tidying up my homework from Snape. How ironic. Trust Snape to be the cause of my suffering… in its own little way of course. I could hear his heavy footsteps painfully making their way up the staircase, and the sound they made echoing in my head as he drew closer. I remember my mind working furiously as if it knew what was about to come through that door. I remember running towards the window and the sound of wood meeting plaster. The squeak of the hinges as the door was brutally kicked open and the feel of my limps stiffen in defence as he stalked towards me. I remember I could just make out what he said something about 'too much noise…had it with you…fucking brat!' He had a knife that day. And I lost consciousness soon after the first blow. 

This was the first of many attacks. And after each one I remember all I did was stare. Stared blindly at the walls, at the sky. I sunk a little every day, constantly battling with my inner self as to why I had to live the life I did. I suppose every day I thought about committing suicide. I thought about how I would do it. When I would do it. The timing so no-one would find me until it was too late. And then I would think of the reasons why I should not. I did not want my uncle to have any pleasure whatsoever from breaking me. I would not let that happen in front of him. And it did not. Even when he did the most disgusting thing one human being can do to another, I did not break. I couldn't bring myself to give in to his wishes and that night when I was left cold, bloody and naked on my floor, gasping for breath… I did not cry. 

The days I recall, dragged on and everyday left me hollow and soulless in a way. And as I saw the children around me playing, laughing and hugging their parents when they came to collect them from their friend's houses, I turned away. I despised them. 

My aunt began to watch me also, though she tried to do it discreetly. Bless her for trying not to make me feel uncomfortable. She then began to play music. Sad, depressing music. And if I was not much mistaken I saw a glint of light in her eye that I saw every day…in the mirror. It was as if she felt my pain and shared it. And the only way for her not to break down on the spot was to listen to music. Why she chose the music she did I would never know, for two reasons of course, though I know you know already what they are. The song that I believe began to break me was 'total eclipse of the heart'. I know it sounds sappy, but I felt I could relate to it in some way. 

I remember my aunt was sat on the sofa crying silently, save for the odd shrill shriek and hiccough. I had come downstairs for a drink as I was forbidden dinner. I heard the song play up and listened to the words…

#    Turnaround, every now and then I get a   
little bit lonely and you're never coming around. #

It was inviting me to listen to more and as if got further into the song I began to relate to the singer and I found that my sorrow and pain (however cliché that sounds?) was deeper than I thought. Everything around me seemed to dissolve as I listened to more…

# Turnaround, Every now and then I get a   
little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes.   
Turnaround bright eyes, Every now and   
then I fall apart.   
Turnaround bright eyes, Every now and   
then I fall apart… #

And I was… I was falling apart in front of my own family, my own flesh and blood and they didn't care. And I then began cutting myself. Only small incisions along the length of my arms but I felt I was relieving my self from some of the stress that was building up inside me. It was as if it was trickling from my body as the blood flowed.

A day came when I got a letter from Professor Dumbledore. He had written to inform me of 'very grave news'. And as I held the parchment in my hand I could not help but feel pleased. I felt a spark of happiness ignite within me. The fact that at least one other person in this godforsaken world felt some minor unhappiness made me feel that much better…until I read the last paragraph. The words written on the parchment seemed unrealistic, as if they were some made up language that I did not want to comprehend. But as that one name burned itself into my eyes and made its way into my mind I could not help but throw down the parchment and scream. 

That night my heart had completely emptied itself of any emotion. 

I did not care anymore. I do not laugh. I do not cry. I do not talk. I do not love. I do not feel…  

A/N: Wow… took me a while to write that. Didn't get any time. I know it's quite short. But I felt that chap had to end. Thanks for reviews… 

This story is a short story. And if anyone's confused then I did say it starts at the end when he commits suicide. And then sort of carries on from the beginning… so he hasn't committed suicide yet. There ya go anyways. 

This story should have about 2 chapters left? Unless you really want more? Which I'm sure you won't! 

Thanks again for all my reviewers. And the person who gave me the ranking of 'Sirius Black'. Thanx you very much I'm very honoured. Lol… anyways 

Please review this chapter! I really appreciate anything you have to say. 

Thanks again

Here's another poem I have written that fits with the story. 

**'Only way out...'******

My soul is cold and hollow.

My head is all messed up.

My heart is full of sorrow.

My arms are full of cuts.

My hands have gone all shaky.

My knees have gone all weak.

My eyes have gone all droopy.

My veins begin to leak.

My vision's going blurry.

My senses all confused.

My nerves have gone all numb.

My body's so abused.

My pride has now been broken.

My conscience full of doubt.

My feelings have left me completely.

This is my only way out...

Hope you like? 

LuvaboyDan*Hesmyman ~*XxX*~

  
  


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	4. I cannot love

A/N: Ok guys sorry this took so long to come out … I've had a lot of h/w recently and my Grandpa Passed Away a couple weeks ago.

It's really strange because in my last chapter I ended it with that person who died and him feeling as if he couldn't feel anymore and that his heart had sort of emptied of emotion. And then not long after I posted that chap I get a message saying about my granddad and I now feel that way… I know this must sound stupid but I've always felt in some weird way that I am sort of psychic at times... And I no your all going 'yea right' but it's true…I wont go into it... Just trust me *grins*! 

Anyway today I went to his funeral and I feel a bit better now that I have said goodbye...you know? Ok well I decided I should write more story…and seems this one is rather depressing I thought I'd write more of it… hope you like…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 4: I cannot love

**I cannot love…**

Today I came to the conclusion that I cannot love…yes I know I have vaguely mentioned it before, but this is different. I can now stand in front of my best friends and if I really wanted to I could hit them, scream at them, even kill them if I felt the need, as I do not love them…anyone anymore. I don't really know why it had to go this way. I had it all. Well…at least as much as any normal person would want; fame, fortune, hundreds of fans eager to back me up in any circumstance…well most. 

But behind the face and the money was a scared little boy trying to hide from the big bad world around him. But everyone was too arrogant to see that and they would keep pushing until the little boy was at breaking point. Until he was holding his hands around his ears and hugging his knees to his chest, tears pouring from his big green eyes. They made that boy feel as if he was nothing in the world but a tool to be used when it was needed, then forgotten for years at a time until another problem arose and needed fixing. And so before you, stands that scared little boy, broken, but not counting on another tool to fix him. You see people do not think about things of such little significance. They do not think that if their tool were to ever break that they would need to fix it. As they believed that tool to be the best and that it could carry on forever. But reality is much different in this case. And the tool has fixed its last problem.     

My reasons for feeling this way? The only person left in this world who I felt really, truly cared for me was gone. Gone just like that. It's so strange how one minute someone can be living, breathing and talking to you and then the next they could have been shot down, or have a heart attack. I feel like someone is playing a cruel trick on me and feel that if they stop I might get a slight chance of happiness and cannot bring themselves to do it. My soul has begun to fill up with sorrow. And at any moment I feel it shall crack. I am ready for that day as I cannot go on like this for much longer. 

Have you ever had that feeling when everything you do makes you feel guilty that, that one person who you cared so deeply and so lovingly for, cannot do the same? Have you ever felt that if you could just stop breathing altogether that it would ease your guilt slightly, but then feel that tirade of emotion flow back into you again when you think that they did not choose to die and so it is wrong for you to be able to make that choice, to get away from the pain? I have. I do. You see my mind is not a simple thing. There are things stored deep within that even I do not know of, until the most unlikely times. My emotions build up; they collect in the deep, dark crevasses of my mind and then slowly begin to take over my life. One emotion after another shall break free, leaving me confused, depressed and lonely. I cannot stop them from doing so. If I were to try and do something to make me a little less unhappy my mind would overpower it with yet another emotion, never allowing me to feel happiness. It has been like this for a while now. Though the biggest bout came after I read that my first ever friend, Hagrid had been murdered by none other than my Mother and father's betrayer; Peter Pettigrew. Even thinking that name makes a kind of anger boil up inside me like no other. It's his fault I'm like this. It's his fault I'm so fucking screwed up. If he had just let the bastards kill him instead of being such a coward then my Mum and Dad would still be alive, happy. And maybe I would too. Though I am no psychic, I do not know this for sure… 

But we can all dream cant we? Ah yes dreams. Have I told you of what I have to suffer through every night? Oh well that's another reason why I should do the deed I know I am going to commit. You see every night I watch innocent young children scream for help, knowing that I cannot provide it for them. I see tears streaming down their innocent faces as they thrash about before the body of my worst enemy, knowing that they are going to die. 

Lord Voldemort, a cruel twisted man. I would even go as far to say as twisted as me, though in a different way of course. And the fact that he is mainly the cause for my twisted mind rather adds to the fact that we are very much different from each other. Anyway, he stands there, a foul smirk set upon his ugly face. Just thinking that any living thing, whatever species it belongs too, can just watch in glee as another being is tortured before their eyes fills me with hatred. 

Knowing that he has no heart to show love, knowing that it is as black as black can be and that it became that way through his own actions. It makes me angry that he chose to feel that way and I didn't! Why did this have to happen to me? I did not want my heart to go this way. I did not want to become so cold and so distant with people. I did not want to feel as if nothing had any meaning in my life ... including me. There is no point in existing and that is becoming clearer every day. I once dreamt of raising a family. To continue the Potter line, to have a happy home with a smiling wife and 2 children in photographs scattered around a lovely big country cottage home. And do you know what was missing from that photo? 

Magic! Magic is the one thing that I feel I despise above all other things, even Voldemort. You see, Voldemort is what he is; he does what he does, simply because magic exists. It is one big scandal really. All it does is cause more pain to people. The only things it is really useful for is making life easier on people, when they should learn to do things on their own. Locking doors and making food quicker. There is no real use for magic. It has corrupted this world and it has blinded us from seeing the real world. The fact that we can do all the things magic does with our own minds and hands. And it brings us greater satisfaction knowing that we can do this. I mentioned this to Ron once and he said that we need magic to protect ourselves from dangerous creatures. What dangerous creatures? If magic did not exist we would not be in danger of being trampled by a hippogriff! Or being drowned by a giant squid! Can no-one see that? 

You know, I wish that I had been left in my cupboard for eternity. I wish that I had never received my letter and that I would have rotted away from the reality that was about to hit me. And that brings me back to why I feel this way, why my heart is so cold. It is clearly this; I cannot love…

A/N:  Phew…That took a bit of thinking! What do you think? I think I may have gone a bit deeper into this that I first thought. I think I may be able to have one more chapter … and that will be it! Is that ok? Please give me some feedback on this. I only felt I was ready to write again because I had an English essay due in a few days ago and had to write that. It got me in the mood for writing so I'm trying to get back in the swing of things. 

 I don't know why but I feel as if my writing style has changed a little bit? If you think so like, just slightly, could u tell me plz and if u like it or not … if u do I'll try and rite like it again if you don't ill try to rite like b4 …the same with 'The life of Harry' I feel my writing has changed big time on there and I don't know why? Ah well….

And if any of you are waiting for the next chap for 'The life of Harry' I've only written 1,900 words so far… ill try and get it up 2   3,000 or maybe nearer 4 but I don't know? 

Thanks to all my reviewers!!!! Sorry can't find who they were and my internets not working at the mo *Damn AOL* so I can't check on there.

Anyway I better get to bed. I'm very tired *yawns*  

**And for anyone wanting a poem… here ya go…**

*This is a poem in memory of my Grandfather George*   (no suicide)

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**'They're Gone…'**

They say 'they're gone', but have they really left us?

Their spirits live on, but our hearts crush.

They do not mean to leave. They do not mean to make us cry.

But the worst thing of all is that they never say goodbye.

They leave us all oblivious to the fact, that they are never coming back. 

Our minds are in denial; our smiles are false and sad.

It has put us on trial, to remember the times we had. 

Those times are now over, and so we must.

Remember how they were, but never break their trust… 

Written by Kellie (me)

**And another poem that relates to this chap…if you want to read it…**

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**No longer feel love…**

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My heart falls to my stomach, and sits there all alone.

It is no longer beating, no longer has a home.

My heart begins to stiffen, and turn blue from the cold.

It starts to feel heavy, it's getting very old.

It was once a sacred blessing, a gift from up above.

It is no longer needed, as I no longer feel love…

Written by Kellie (me)

LuverboyDan*Hesmyman ~*XxX*~


	5. Death Rant

**AN:** I'm back, with a lovely Tan! Nah not really, I haven't been on holiday, not on this earth anyway. I'm updating all my stories, or re-doing them. So be sure to check them all out!

I am unsure about what to do with this one. I have uploaded this chapter, however I am thinking I could may-be carry on, and make it into a proper story?

Review and tell me what you think?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter … yet…

**Chapter 5:** Death Rant

**Death Rant...**

You can choose to either embrace death with open arms or simply shut it out until it happens...If you embrace it, it will be an easier task than if you were to shut it out... People die every few seconds and there's nothing we can do to stop it. However different people may think; I cannot save the world!

I always used to think that this world was just my creation, but then it changed. I guess I've passed that stage, I've asked all the questions, and I've never been given a legible answer … I gave up long ago.

You see, the world is what we make it, true… but it has been manipulated to suit those above us that we can't change it for ourselves… we are stuck living a life of dull slavery.

Time ticks by so quickly, I'm often found, silently sitting in my room and watching as the sun rises and falls, and I remain in silence, my life, like a ghost, fleeting past my very eyes, I sit, helpless as I grow older...

Everyday and everything is so harsh, do any of you have any friends that have died in your arms while you sat and did nothing? Have any of you ever killed? Has your life grown dark and cold? Welcome to my world... The sheer intensity of my wish to die causes me to prove that I am actually alive, as everything inside me feels as if it has been dead for so long, that I wonder if I'm not actually there, that I don't actually exist.

Even though I feel life is pointless, has no meaning; I believe that once one life ends, another is just going to begin, and I'll have to begin the pointless cycle over again, but at least I can start fresh, perhaps live a better life.

It's hard to know if one is truly alive, that's why I cut, that's why I watch as the blood tenderly drips along my arm and onto the floor... Then I cut again, just to know that I am alive...you should try it sometime...It's a rush…

You can never truly escape the pain that seeks you out… it'll never leave you alone, that is why we harm ourselves…it gives us just a little while to let the pain drain, before it finds it's way ban to begin again

You see, our bodies aren't real, our minds are the only thing that exists, life's a fleeting dream, and then we wake up!

I am not fading from myself, no matter how distant from myself I am I still feel the pain of living as me, I can still feel the guilt, I am still myself.

I'm dying inside, I can feel it surfacing, engulfing me within its cruel grasp, its screams fill my ears and I sink further beneath the surfaces of reality... I feel hollow, alone... my smile has not been seen upon my cold lifeless face for a while now ... no-one understands the torment that is raging inside me, they don't see the desperation for just something to feel real, in the pools of emerald that are my eyes...

Sometimes the urge to kill is so strong that all moral and reason is lost, you cannot control your actions, as the second the adrenaline enters your body, it takes over, the simple feel of some emotion is amazing and you wish for it to stay that way... you feast on it …

_As I silently hold the wand in my hand, I stare down at the face-down figure with blood pooling around the body, it twitches and I fire one last curse into the mass on the floor... a dark grin passes my features... "I killed it'' ... "Yes I killed it''_

But why do I feel so cold? I'll tell you why ... my one moment of feeling... one moment of a smile... Passed by... gone...The moment I wake up…

You ask why I'm not happy. Happiness is a form of denial ... we all know denial is a section of our minds that locks away all the pain and suffering that is reality... I prefer not to live a lie... it makes you believe false facts, gives you false hope and when your hopes are not met... you use one rash and unsuspecting action to end it all, you don't appreciate it... you don't revel in the fact that what you are about to do will make you happier than words could ever describe... you simply.. Die... No sacrifice or gift...you would be a liar to yourself as well as to others around you...

Suicide … now that is a thing to be worried about... I myself have been and may still be suicidal… yet I have never gone through with what I wish for so dearly ... the fact that we can take our own lives in a second if we wished, is so strong it overpowers me.

Yes, but death can be welcoming…its soft whispers caress you as you live in the darkness surrounding you, letting its tempting words fill you and let your mind fly within its misty water.

I'll never end up like that for I have always known the truth... and when I am finally set free I can rest in peace ... I can finally hold the honer of dying ... a smile on my face ... I'll be happy again...

**AN:** Well there you have it. I have to admit that most of that story was taken from a death rant I wrote about myself when I was going through my depressive stage, in fact all of it was. I've adapted it to fit Harry though, and I truly felt it fit in with his state of mind, so I believe I had the right to do that!

Please review

Kellie xx


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